Chapter 15
He had more than enough time to think it through, and after a miserable night on his friend's lumpy sofa, he had come up with a plan.
It was one that was going to get his wife the help she so desperately needed.
He had failed her. Had allowed her to carry the burdens of their hopeless life all on her own.
He had been so mired down in his own unhappiness that he had failed to see that she was unhinged.
And if he did not stop her, she was going to make the biggest mistake of her life, one that would end up with her being killed or thrown in jail.
He couldn't fathom that. Milton, his friend, had naturally assumed that Maxy had thrown him out because of his drinking, and he had allowed him to think that. He could not afford to have anyone knowing of his plans.
For once in his ill-gotten life, he was going to do the right thing.
So, early that morning, he stood outside the local precinct, a tattered watch cap covering his balding pate, his demeanor one of pure nerves. He was willingly stepping inside a police station to inform on his wife. He felt lower than dirt. And it was cold as a bitch.
Taking a deep breath, he dodged a few uniformed cops streaming down the steps and made his way uncertainly toward the entrance.
Even this early in the morning, it was busy. He glimpsed a used-up-looking hooker sprawled on an uncomfortable chair, her blonde wig askew as she slept off a hard night. A few cops were hauling a fierce-looking man with tattoos all over his face toward the back.
The female cop at the front looked harried and busy.
Frank wondered if this was a sign that this was a bad idea.
Maybe Maxy was just blowing smoke. His wife was not a violent person; she went to church several times a week, for Christ's sake!
He was just building up something in his mind and was still drunk.
But then he recalled the gun in the drawer and the look on her face the last time he had seen her.
Besides, the lady cop was looking over at him.
"May I help you?"
"Er..." He cleared his throat. "Yes." He approached the wide desk and willed his rapidly beating heart to slow down. "I... I have to report a crime."
The woman's mahogany eyes sharpened, and she ignored the ringing phone at her elbow.
"Is it a crime in progress?"
"No." He shook his head. "Yes." He took another breath, and the female cop realized he was scared. "Why don't I get a detective to speak to you in private?"
Frank nodded, a look of relief on his florid face.
Within minutes, he was inside what he realized was an interrogation room. Instead of quieting his nerves, the room had him jumping out of his skin. They kept him waiting for thirty minutes before a balding, middle-aged man came in and closed the door.
"Mind if I record this? By the way, I'm Detective Granger. Officer Lowe said you had a crime to report. Name?"
"Frank..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Bell. Why am I being recorded?"
"To avoid legal tangles." Sharp gray eyes stared at him. "So, do you?"
"No." He shook his head. "No."
"Good. Now what's on your mind?"
"It's my wife."
The detective stopped writing and stared at him. "Your wife is committing a crime?"
"No." Frank took another deep breath. "That is, she's thinking of it, planning to do it."
"I see." Detective Granger managed to tamp down the irritation that was rising inside him. He had a full caseload and a serial killer on the loose; he did not have time for domestic affairs. "What has your wife done, or what is she about to do?"
"She's planning on stealing some babies," Frank blurted out.
That got the detective's attention. Sitting up, he started writing again. "Whose babies?"
"Some celebrity couple. They recently had quadruplets. You see..." Frank leaned forward earnestly. "My Maxy has had several miscarriages, and it's destroyed her mind. She's a good Christian woman..."
"Back all the way up." The detective held up a hand. "You said a celebrity couple who recently had quads?"
Frank nodded.
"How do you know what your wife is planning?"
Frank had come prepared. Before he left the house, he had searched their bedroom and found tons of clippings about the actress, as well as several copies of handwritten letters that had set his blood curdling. He had secretly made copies and had them with him.
"I have proof." He handed over the thick file and waited while the detective snapped on gloves and waded through the papers.
"Good Christ!" Detective Granger looked over at the disheveled-looking man who was seated nervously on the edge of the chair. "Are you in league with her?"
"What? No! If I were, would I be here now, handing you all of this?"
"Why are you doing it?" The detective stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Hoping for some sort of reward?"
"No. Is there one?"
"There might be."
Frank shook his head. "She's a good woman, and I don't want to see her land in jail.
She needs help." He twirled his finger at his temple.
"She's gone off the deep end. She's planning on killing that actress and taking those babies.
She has all these plans. I know she does, and you need to do something about it. I want her to get the help she needs."
The man stared at him for a moment and then made a decision. "I need to make a phone call. Stay put."
As if he could go anywhere, Frank thought sourly, still wondering if he was doing the right thing.
*****
"You have someone in custody?" Samuel asked after a moment's silence that stretched throughout the room.
"Not yet."
"Then what are you saying?" Eliza gripped her husband's hand tightly in hers, her breathing shallow. She did not dare to believe that this was ending. That they could go back to life as they knew it.
Angelo had contacted them thirty minutes ago, saying he had some news and asking if he could come over. Now he was here, ensconced in their living room, drinking a cup of coffee. The babies were with their nannies inside the playroom, having their mid-morning nap.
"The strangest thing happened." He proceeded to tell them about Frank Bell's visit to the local precinct and how a Detective Granger had called him.
"I interviewed the man myself, interrogated the hell out of him to make certain he wasn't some kook looking for his time in the limelight.
" He started to pick up the cup again and realized it was empty.
As if on cue, Lyka-Mae glided in with another full pot, earning herself a grateful smile.
"He was nervous as hell and insisting that he wanted to do what was best for his very unhinged wife. "
"Who the hell is she?" Samuel demanded.
"A church-going, seemingly normal woman who had several miscarriages and remained childless.
" Angelo poured coffee and took a sip. "We have men posted in the neighborhood to monitor her movements and have been doing a run on her.
She has worked at the local Wal-Mart for close to sixteen years and is a member of the local Baptist church.
" He took another fortifying sip of the coffee.
"So what now?"
"Now, we move in for the kill. We have enough evidence to take her in, but we need proof of what she plans to do."
"And that plan is?"
Angelo hesitated and considered evading the question.
He did not usually like to involve civilians in his game plan, but Samuel was his best friend and a man who was not easily brushed aside.
"She bought some cots, four in all. And she has a gun, a recent purchase.
" He felt regret at the stark look of fear on Eliza's beautiful face.
"Her plan was to kill my babies?" she whispered.
"No. Her plan was to kill you and take the babies," Angelo corrected. "We're sending the husband in to get a confession from her."
"How're you planning on doing that? Doesn't she suspect him?"
"He's a classic drunk and a deadbeat, but he wants to do the right thing. Wants to save his wife." Angelo shrugged. "Seems to me that the guy loves his wife and wants her to get help. We're prepping him to go in and try to get her talking. He'll be wearing a wire."
"Are you sure this will work?"
Angelo answered him honestly. "The man is a nervous wreck and claims to be sober. He's also scared of the woman. We're hoping for the best and will be nearby in case it all turns to crap. If that fails, we have enough evidence to nail her anyway."
"I want to know why she's doing this."
He switched his gaze to Eliza, his expression softening.
"Simple or complicated, depending on how you want to look at it.
This is a desperate woman who wanted a child of her own and never had one.
She was already fixated on you from the magazine cutouts the man brought to us.
You were her idol at first. She sympathized with you, with the fact that you wanted children, but then you found the means to have those children, and it turned you into her enemy. "
"So, it's my fault," she said dully.
"Don't be ridiculous!" her husband exclaimed sharply.
Letting go of her hand, he tipped her chin up.
"If you're going to start blaming yourself, you're going to piss me off, and I'm already pissed.
" Planting a rough kiss on her lips, he released her and turned to Angelo. "I want this over and done with."
"Absolutely."
*****
"Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Bell?
" Angelo asked as his partner clipped the tiny device to his belt buckle.
It amazed him how much technology had advanced since he joined the force twenty years ago.
A tiny transmitter could make a hell of a lot of difference.
But the man was worrying him. He was sweating and shaking.
"If not, we're going to have to put this off and find another way. "
"I want to help," Frank insisted. "It's just that Maxy is a good person." He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs restlessly. "She prays often and volunteers at the soup kitchen."